


Champagne and Cigarettes

by Andixa



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 12:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14378526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andixa/pseuds/Andixa
Summary: “Dull, indeed,” she scoffed. “Why, of all the dull people in the world, would you be interested in Kate?”“Oh, you’re not following at all. It’s nothing to do with Kate -- good lord, how are you not getting this?”





	1. Chapter 1

“You want a peep show from the lesbians? How… pedestrian.”

“No, no, don’t be stupid,” Sherlock rubbed at his face, feeling warm and sticky and sort of maudlin, but also… good? Almost like morphine, but without that cottony feeling. Perhaps there was something to this business of getting drunk on expensive champagne with a pretty woman. “It’s not about-- I mean, it’s her, for you. She’s special. ... it would be interesting to observe.”

“You want to watch me with Kate, specifically? I must admit, when I offered, I was expecting you to suggest something a little more… interactive.” Eyebrow arched, and he briefly wonders if the pretty woman -- the Woman -- wasn’t nearly as intoxicated as she should be, even matching him glass for glass, sprawled out beside him on an unreasonably large hotel bed. Alcohol had never been his poison; still wasn’t, if John’s stag night was anything to go by.

“Kate, yes, that was her name. How dull.”

“Dull, indeed,” she scoffed. “Why, of all the dull people in the world, would you be interested in Kate?”

He groaned.

“Oh, you’re not following at all. It’s nothing to do with Kate -- good lord, how are you not getting this?”

“So you do just want to see two lesbians--”

“It’s not the sex! -- well, it is -- I just want to see--” he sat up and glared at the Woman -- “It’s supposed to be different, isn’t it?”

“Different?” she replied, both eyebrows now, in that taunting way she had.

“Yes, different. When they’re special.”

“When they’re-- good lord, Sherlock, are you asking if sex is different when you’re in love?”

“Yes, that!” He flopped back down. “Took you long enough.” 

He thinks her lower lip may have trembled just a little. Maybe the champagne really was getting to her -- besides, she wouldn’t seem nearly as sober if she was shamming. She was too smart for that, unless she was even smarter than he thought, because shamming that she wasn’t shamming was just right up there with Mycroft -- if Mycroft was ever arsed to do anything, which he wasn’t.

“Oh god. Sherlock. Tell me you didn’t ask--”

“Of course not,” because he wasn’t an idiot. Not usually. The Woman let it drop, because she was smart too.

She burped, delicately, and reached over for the bottle. 

“I’ll talk to Kate. But don’t get your hopes up.”


	2. Chapter 2

Different time, different country, different circumstances. There’s still champagne.

“Sherlock, I think it’s fair to say that you and I are as close to friends as people like you and I can get,” Irene said, then paused to make sure it had come out the right way. Yes, that made enough sense to be getting on with. “We’ve done quite a bit of… things, shared quite a few… experiences, and you’ve told me all sorts of secrets -- although I’m not sure you realize, but it’s all the same. Kate seems rather fond as well. So I’m going to say something; it’s more of a request than a secret, but I’m trusting you.”

She paused again, giving them both enough time to parse what had been said. Sherlock took a long pull off their third -- fourth?-- bottle of champagne-- did the broken one count?-- and waved her on. She sounded incredibly posh, and would sound even more so if they kept drinking. 

“Some time in the future-- not soon, mind, but not too far-- I’m going to ask a favor of you. And it’s going to be a big one.”

Sherlock turned his head and looked up at her, higher up on the bed.

“I think we’ve had a lot of big favors between us, don’t you?”

“Not like this.” She fixed dizzy eyes on him, sincere the way only the drunk can be. “I want to have a child.”

Sherlock waited for her to get on with the big favor part.

“Kate and I both.”

Still waiting. His chest hitched a little, somewhere between burp and hiccup, and what was the point of those little lights on the ceiling?

“Kate and I. Who are women. Who are lacking all the necessary... ingredients,” she told him sagely, as if Sherlock didn’t understand basic biology.

“Mm, yes, I’m aware of the fundamentals of reproduction. Weren’t you going to ask me something?”

“Sherlock. You can’t possibly be this dim, I don’t care how much you’ve had to drink.”

“What-- oh. Oh. I see.”

If Irene was expecting a reaction on the level of stroppy Victorian lady -- and absolutely she was -- she was happily mistaken.

Instead of laughing or huffing off or pitching a fit, Sherlock set down the bottle, considered her for quite some time -- quite an alarming amount of time; she wondered if something hadn’t broken behind those pretty eyes of his -- then picked the champagne back up, drained the last few gulps, tossed it on the bed, and asked, “Enola is a lovely name, don’t you think?”


End file.
